Stars at my Feet
by peut-etre-poulet
Summary: SPOILERS: The Shape of Things to Come - Charlie/Claire - Charlie dedicates his Greatest Hits to Claire, but will she ever know?


**Title::..**Stars at my Feet  
**Spoilers::..**_The Shape of Things to Come_  
**Rating::..**G  
**Genre::..**Angst  
**Characters::..**Charlie and Claire  
**Pairing::..**CC  
**Author's Note::..**A little bit of Charlie/Claire angst, not too long so hopefully it won't drain you too much. This one begins at the end of season three with Charlie writing his 'greatest hits' and then it goes into season four with Claire receiving the list (jeez Desmond, was it really so difficult to remember to give it to her?) and her reaction to it. I always wanted Claire to get the list and here's my take on how I think she would react. The title is a lyric from a beautiful song by Rogue Traders called _Childlike_…I'm not really sure how well it fits with the plot, it was just what I was listening to when I began typing the fic up, it's my 114th Lost fic so I think I can be forgiven for running short on ideas for titles.  
**Summary::..**Charlie dedicates his Greatest Hits to Claire, but will she ever know?

* * *

Charlie had thought about a greatest hits compilation for Drive Shaft many times. When his numerous attempts to re-form the band had failed he had realized there was only one way Drive Shaft would ever get a greatest hits out of the record company – one of them would have to die. It was morbid but very true. The death of a celebrity always made news around the world, and then in the wake of their death demand for their merchandise would double from what it had been when the celebrity of interest had been alive.

When the days spent on the island began to add up to a month Charlie's thoughts turned to the greatest hits CD again. He had disappeared off the face of the earth for a whole month. No one off of the island knew what had happened to them. He wondered if the record company had approached Liam about the idea of greatest hits yet. Charlie thought the new, grown-up, holier-than-thou Liam would refuse to allow the record company to cash-in on Charlie's death. Meanwhile in quiet moments he would make mental lists of his favourite songs, what he thought would make good greatest hits.

Getting his death sentence from Desmond made Charlie think about his greatest hits in a completely different way. They were elevated beyond songs to the moments of his life he couldn't forget. He had carried a negative perspective of himself for a long time. Looking back on his life and weeding out all of the bad times made him feel triumphant – his life hadn't been so terrible.

He supposed he had accepted his fate when he began to record his greatest hits. He wrote down the best moments of his life, knowing there was no hope of making any new, amazing memories. He picked up the Sharpie he had discovered amongst the sand on the day of the crash and put it to a clean piece of paper. Straight away he knew he wasn't writing this for himself.

These words were for Claire. He hoped they would bring her some comfort. He knew she would be confused by his decision. They hadn't gotten enough time to get to know each other at the stage where they could understand the actions of one another. He needed to communicate to her that he wasn't afraid to die. He wanted to help her to understand a little better.

He wrote down things he had never told another human being. He was showing Claire who he really was, perhaps to help her forgive him for messing up so many times. There was no question of what his number one would be. It was Claire. All along it was the night he met her. It couldn't be anything else. He bared his soul to her, telling her exactly what was on his mind in the final hours of his life.

It was a therapeutic process for him. He could only hope it would help her in the same way. This was what greatest hits were all about – a celebration of what had been accomplished.

* * *

Claire's eyes stung with tears. Her chest felt hollow, as if someone had pulled her heart out through her raw throat. She stared at Hurley's wet face; she couldn't comprehend what this meant. The tears began to streak down her cheeks. Hurley shuffled closer and pulled her into a comforting hug. She leant against his chest, but she was already numb.

When Hurley moved away Desmond approached her. He offered his condolences before telling her Charlie had died as a hero. She sniffed back her tears so as he wouldn't feel obliged to try to make her feel better. She could tell he was uncomfortable and she didn't want to stretch out the awkward experience.

He retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket. It was ripped in a couple of spots. There were deep creases in the paper as he handed it to her. "Charlie wrote this, he was insistent it get to you."

She thanked him and he took this as permission to walk away. She held the paper with both hands. She looked down at it for a long time, wondering what it said and why he had written it. Although she was curious to know what Charlie had written (it seemed disrespectful to him to not read it) she didn't unfold it. Instead she tucked it into her bra – tonight she needed to concentrate on surviving, Charlie's words would keep until she felt ready to read them.

* * *

For a long time Claire didn't read Charlie's letter. She didn't dare to unfold the piece of paper. She kept it within the pages of her diary, where she felt it was safe because she told herself she would read it when the time was right. She was very curious about what it might say. There were some days when the piece of paper was all she could think about and her fingers itched to unfold it.

She always resisted. Every time she felt she wanted to read it she corrected herself. She remembered what it had felt like when the group from the beach had arrived without Charlie. She didn't want to risk bringing that feeling up again by reading the letter. She needed to focus on survival and making the right decisions for Aaron. Nothing could be achieved by being sent into a depressive state by Charlie's letter, so she kept it out of sight and put her mind to more immediate matters.

There were times when she thought she might never read it. She thought it were best to remember Charlie as he had lived, not for words he had put in a letter. It wasn't until she feared she had lost the page forever that she finally accepted what had happened to Charlie and read it. Her house had exploded all around her and upon gaining consciousness all she had thought about was the letter. She had been dreaming about Charlie, a terrible dream where she couldn't remember what his voice sounded like.

It didn't take long for her to find the letter after the attack. But once she held the paper she couldn't open it, not immediately. After a few moments of timid hesitation she unfolded the page. When she saw how little was written a sinking feeling developed within her. Had she been selfish to think he would dedicate more time to saying goodbye to her?

Reading it showed her how little she had known him. She supposed it was the perfect way for him to say goodbye. On paper he wasn't inhibited and this allowed him tell her exactly how he felt. The only problem was that she couldn't reciprocate his feelings. The silence stretched all around her, covering everything.

'_Charlie's really gone_', the fact settled into her skin, leaving bruise-like marks. The tears finally fell, completely unrestricted.

**The End.**


End file.
